Complementary Colors
by saharafirefly
Summary: Companion piece to Linear Perspective. Outtakes, extras, etc. from the point of view of Bella's smart, sexy, young, "former art professor" and poetic, hopeless romantic Edward Masen, now doting boyfriend extraordinaire.


**A/N: For the dear readers of LP – a teeny, tiny glimpse inside the head of Bella's "smart-sexy-young" FORMER art professor, now boyfriend extraordinaire ;)**

Disclaimer: All copyright and trademarked items, all publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended. No copying or reproduction of this work is permitted without my express written authorization.

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Complementary Colors: colors that are directly opposite each other on the color wheel (red & green; blue & orange; yellow & violet). When placed next to each other, complements make each other brighter. They are aesthetically pleasing.

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Should your glance on mornings lovely  
Lift to drink the heaven's blue  
Or when sun, veiled by sirocco,  
Royal red sinks out of view -  
Give to Nature praise and honour.  
Blithe of heart and sound of eye,  
Knowing for the world of colour  
Where its broad foundations lie.

Johann Wolfgang von Goethe_, Zur Farbenlehre (Theory of Colours)_

* * *

I never, ever in a million years would have thought she'd be a student in my classroom.

The One.

The one who was made for me, meant for me, destined to be my match.

But there she was.

A total stranger.

Someone I knew nothing about and yet somehow instinctively, suddenly wanted to know _**EVERYTHING**_ about.

I was nervous at first. She was my student after all. But the pull could not be denied.

I played it cool.

And then she smiled,

Her cheeks burning a bright crimson red.

And I knew.

…

…

…

I had reached a point in my life where the colors had dulled. Everything was grey and steel blue and taupe.

Food no longer had taste. Time went on without purpose.

I was at a standstill. My life was at a standstill. And then she appeared.

Bella.

The one with the sepia eyes.

But – things were in motion. They are always in motion. Life.

I was at a standstill, but life was in motion all around me. And life had brought her to me.

It was no mere coincidence she appeared when she did, in my class. It may have appeared that way at first. But something told me, whispered to me:

_Look!_ She is here.

Some may say I am crazy. Perhaps even she thinks I am crazy. But I don't care. Life is a journey, as the old saying goes, and that journey brought us together. Brought us here to this place. At this time. She and I.

And it feels right.

When she smiles I am filled with a torrent of emotions: scarlet reds and ultramarine and the deepest, purest, liquid amber. My ego inflates. My heart beats.

I want.

I need.

And I have.

I have her and she has me, but we are not possessions. We are two halves to a whole.

Equal parts.

Opposites.

Complementary.

She is smart in ways I am ignorant. And vice versa.

She knows cell theory and germ theory and molecular theory. I know color theory and art theory and the history of art itself.

She is red and I am green.

And yet here we are.

I tell her of the places I have been. Of the people I have known. Of my Uncle to whom I am going to visit, to check in on, to take care of if necessary.

She tells me of her goals and her fears and her fear of not reaching her goals. And I remind her of how far she's come. How each step builds upon the other. And how she will get there. She will. And I will be there.

Oh, how I want to be there.

…

…

…

It is summer. The sun is shining. We are on the beach and there are people everywhere, but I don't care. I see only her. And she blushes when I stare and begins to protest when I scramble for my sketchbook and tell her "Don't move!" holding out my hand in emphasis. "Stay right there. Please?"

She dissents, nervously chewing on her bottom lip, then relents, letting me sketch her raw beauty: hair blowing in the breeze, tangled and twisted about her sun-kissed face, sun reflecting off the ocean waves cresting behind her.

Saffron, emerald, teal, bronze.

Mahogany.

Her eyes are full of wonder. Hesitation. Lust.

Trepidation.

Want.

Love?

She is unsure - I don't push.

She is brave - I encourage her.

She is smart and funny and charming and endearing. And I am so overwhelmed with knowing and confidence and other emotions I cannot express any other way but on canvas.

So, I sketch.

I paint.

I pour everything I am onto that canvas.

And she is patient.

When I am done we go back to her place or to my place and we make love and it is rapid heartbeats and shallow breathing and gasping, grasping, peaking, waning…

Being.

Just being.

It's beyond anything I have ever experienced before.

Like rich raspberry velvet … warm, melted milk chocolate…

Sweet to the tongue, savory to the soul.

Like a prism of colors so beautiful it hurts to look.

But you can't help but look because you are amazed it exists and you _need_ to look in order to make known it _does _exist, so you can tell others, so you can verify you are not the only one who has experienced such a thing, such a wonder.

It is good.

It is real.

It is mine.

I won't let go. I know this is new to her and she is scared. I will not suffocate her. She is her own person and she is brilliant and I am so in awe of her. But I will not let go.

I place my trust in her.

I place my heart into her hands and I say "This is yours. Please take care of it for me."

And I can tell she is scared by the look in her eyes and I reassure her of my sincerity. With each kiss, with each breath.

…

…

…

During the day we go here, we go there. Time is limited in this place. There are things she still wants to see before she leaves.

I just want to see her.

I'm pleasantly surprised when she takes me to meet her family, Jake's family.

They are warm and earthy: russet and pine and jasmine.

I am welcomed with open arms and open faces. Acceptance.

There is laughing and joy and genuine authenticity. These people are real. And they care very deeply for Bella.

"She is special," Jacob's dad, Billy, says to me as we watch Jake and Bella chase each other around like little kids with squirt guns, "Like Phoenix rising. She's been through a lot, but she is strong, independent. Smart. She will do well in California."

He turns to me and I see the reluctance in his expression. To let her fly. To release her to true freedom.

But I also see his pride and what else he is not saying with words: be careful with her. Do not hurt her.

I nod. I agree.

Bella pauses in her deflection of Jacob's playful assault and catches me on the deck with her surrogate father. Her bright smile fades as her eyebrow shoots up in silent questioning.

I smile back in reassurance and shake my head at her silliness. Do not worry beautiful Bella. I am okay. I am comfortable here.

She makes like she is going to come up on the deck when she is blindsided with a splash to the side of her face by Jacob's super-soaker and her jaw drops open in surprise. She gasps, then growls, then turns on her heel and is in hot pursuit of her blatant assailant. I hear Jacob yelp after she caught up with him and Billy and I laugh before returning to the kitchen to help with the rest of the fish fry.

…

…

…

We lay in bed the night before I am to leave for Berkeley. Bella is scheduled to leave for Davis the following week.

It will be our first time apart since the graduation party.

I remind myself it is only temporary.

My eyes are closed, but I'm not sleepy, just content.

I lay on my back, Bella's head lay over my heart, her fingers lightly dancing across my chest.

"Why did you shave?"

"Huh?"

Her question is so odd and out of the blue at the moment I almost can't comprehend it? Why would this concern her now? Why didn't she ask me at Graduation?

"Why did you shave off the stubble? You had it all semester long. I thought it was kinda sexy."

"Oh really?" I chuckle and squeeze her to my side. "It was the end of the semester. I just figured it was time for a change."

"Oh. Okay."

There is a long pause and now I am fully awake and wondering what it is that is really concerning her. What does my change in facial hair have to do with anything?

"I can grow it back," I reassure her.

"Oh… no. It's okay. It doesn't matter to me. I like you either way."

I roll her over and pin her to the bed and look deep into her eyes. She is smiling and happy and I'm furrowing my brows at her because I still don't get what that was all about.

She lifts her hand and runs her fingers over my brow, then down the side of my face to my jaw. Sweetly. Reverently.

I smile back and let it go. I don't question her thought pattern. Sometime she is random like that. And that is okay.

"That's good to know," is my response before I press my lips to hers, tasting her sweetness one last time.

It quickly turns to more, as it usually does and I find myself lost in her once again.

So lost.

So found.

And when we are breathless and sated, I hold her to me and think about how she is always surprising me.

I can't tell what goes on inside that head of hers.

But that's one of the things I love most about her.

* * *

**A/N: So, yeah, my summer has been busier than expected and then I went out and did a really crazy thing by getting a job (I know!). Needless to say, these conditions are not very conducive to writing, BUT when Edward the artist, the poet, the ever romantic started whispering his random, non-linear thoughts into my ear about his Bella girl, I was compelled to listen ;)**

**Will there be more? Hard to say… I am trying to work on Part 2 of LP, so that is my focus, but if Edward has more to share at _any_ point in the process, I will be more than happy to share it here with you all. K?**

**Thanks for reading :)**

**Truly,**

**sf**


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